


gentleman crim

by poisonrationalitie



Series: Harry Potter Expanded Universe [18]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Fireworks, Gen, Keliah Watts (OC)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 16:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20548859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonrationalitie/pseuds/poisonrationalitie
Summary: Seamus Finnigan has always been a bit of a storyteller, but this time his stories land him in hot water. X posted from fanfiction.net. Written for ‘Hogwarts Term 11 Assignment 3 - Magical Law Enforcement and Crime, Task 2 - Committing a Crime’.





	gentleman crim

Seamus Finnigan had always been of the opinion that he was a fine sort of bloke. He wasn’t much to look at, nor overly intelligent, but, you know - he did his best. He’d done plenty of admirable things in his life. And what kind of guy didn’t believe he was a great guy? A fool, he was sure. 

Emma Vane seemed to be of a different opinion. Both were sat in the main room of the Hog’s Head, which was unusually packed to the brim. Also unusually, there wasn’t a person above the age of twenty-nine, aside from the bartender. The dubious honour of being the oldest guest went to Bill Weasley, a redhead who Seamus recalled his former dormmate talking about. In spite of this, Emma Vane was not smiling. She was not laughing. She sipped her firewhisky in silence.

“And I’d be lying, I would, if I said she didn’t scare the ass end out of me,” he continued, exchanging a grin with Dean and nodding at Keliah. “But I told her, ‘Granny, you can’t possibly be expecting me to do that!’ And she said, ‘Seamus, you look just like your Granda, and he never missed an opportunity to be swindling someone. Tis only haggling!’. So I walk into this shop, I do, and this man has the maddest tattoo right down his face. It was this great big snake slithering down his temple.”

“And you still did it?” cut in Parvati. “You’re bonkers.”

“You try saying no to Granny!” Seamus said, shaking his head. “So I go up to him, shakin’ and all, and I tell him I’m looking to be getting these pearls back. And he looks me right up and down, like bloody Professor Moody, and he says -”

“Bullshit.”

Seamus’ voice faltered. It had come from Emma Vane, who now held an empty bottle of firewhisky. He scrunched one eye, further blurring his already alcohol-affected vision.

“What?”

“Bullshit. Your Granny didn’t send you on a mission to get her neighbours’ pearls for cheap, and even if she had, no way you would’ve done it,” said Emma, very matter-of-fact. “Ten galleons you didn’t do any of the shit you’ve said.”

“Slander!” Seamus cried, half-joking, hitting his fist on the table. 

“In fairness,” Dean said, giving Seamus a deadly grin. “I don’t remember bailing you out for any of this. And we did say that if we were ever in that position, we’d bail each other out.” Seamus flicked his best mate the middle finger. 

“I hate you,” he grumbled. Then, louder: “What’s with the not-believing-me thing?”

“You and Dean are thick as thieves,” Parvati said. “If you were telling the truth, he’d know.”

“All of you can go to hell,” Seamus said, shooting the woman a dirty look. “Why can’t you accept Seamus Finnigan, gentleman crim?”

Dean choked on his drink, and smacked himself on the chest. Seamus raised his eyebrows. “Serves you right,” Seamus said. 

“Gentleman crim?” Emma scoffed. “How much of a lightweight are you, Finnigan? Thought you were s’posed to be sturdier.”

“Cause I’m Irish? That’s a hell of a bloody -”

“Because you’re double my size and we’ve had the same amount and I’m not feeling woozy yet,” she interrupted.

“I know Em too well,” said Keliah. “I’m going to chat to Annie. Laters, losers.” Seamus raised a hand in farewell. Emma turned to watch her leave, and then faced the group once more. Her eyelashes were long and dark. Like spiders. But nice spiders. Friendly spiders. Spiders you didn’t kill. 

“What would you have me be doing, Emma?” Seamus asked. A round of ‘he’s a jolly good fellow!’ had broken out at the bar, led by a red-faced George Weasley. 

“Prove that what you’re saying isn’t bullshit,” Emma said.

“I wasn’t exactly taking photos!” Emma paused, tilting her head to one side. Candles burned in cobweb-lined chandeliers above them, and under the yellow light, she was actually kind of pretty. In a plain sort of way. 

“Percy Weasley’s here,” she said finally. “Works for the transport lot at the Ministry.” Seamus rolled his eyes.

“What about it?”

“Ministry guy. Not to mention Hermione Granger.”

“Don’t get on her bad side,” said Parvati. “Did you ever hear about poor Marietta Edgecombe?”

“Gentleman crim here surely isn’t scared of her,” Emma grinned, possessed by a she-devil. Seamus swallowed, and gulped down more firewhisky.

“Not a bit,” Seamus said, wiping his mouth. “Would you be getting to the point?”

“Prove it,” Emma repeated, gesturing to the room. She had small hands and long fingers. “Be Mr. Bloody Gentleman Crim.”

“This is stupid,” Seamus said.

“I’ll bail you out,” said Dean. “Don’t worry.” Even Parvati was grinning. 

Seamus Finnigan had always been a bit of a storyteller, to tell (for once) the truth. When you roomed with Harry Potter, it gave you a bit of a complex. Most listeners were more than happy to take his stories with a pinch of salt, though it had taken Seamus time to extend that courtesy to others. He also liked to think that his stories were funny, not fear-mongering bullshit. 

Now he was going to have to eat his words.

“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Watch it.” It took him a moment to decide what to do. He was hardly going to risk a trip to Azkaban to impress a girl - to prove his point, he meant. The  _ thud-thud-thud  _ of a headache didn’t help. He grabbed his firewhisky, tipped it, and let the liquid burn his throat. Gasping, he put it down, shut his eyes, and apparated.

There was a reason that you weren’t supposed to apparate under the influence. He could feel his limbs trembling, floating away. His head throbbed. He focused all his efforts on feeling his fingers, and the location he wished to appear.  _ Crack.  _ He appeared almost on top of a very shocked Percy Weasley. All his limbs were intact. His mouth dropped open, and vomit poured out. Percy Weasley, former domineering prefect and Head Boy, was covered in his puke.

“Sorry,” he croaked, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Ron had burst into laughter, alongside Harry.

“Be mindful of apparition under the influence,” warned Percy, blinking and taking off his glasses. Seamus nodded, feeling his knees sway. He fumbled his wand out of his pocket, apparition sickness catching up with the amount of firewhisky he’d downed. 

_ Thud.  _ There was a weird banging in his head. In the corner of his eye, he could see Dean and the girls. Dean raised his glass, and Parvati was laughing.  _ Thud.  _ Maybe Emma was actually pretty. He’d never taken much notice of her.  _ Thud.  _ Not as pretty as Lavender had been, or anything. But pretty.  _ Thud.  _ Percy was talking, but Seamus had long ago acquired the skill of drowning his voice out. Most Gryffindors had, at one point or another. _ Thud.  _ Harry’s face was flushed, and he said Seamus’ name. 

“Gentleman crim!” Emma shouted, and Seamus turned his full attention to her. She threw something at him, and he raised his hands to catch it. He’d never made Chaser for Gryffindor, despite his efforts. It hit him in the stomach and fell to the floor. 

Seamus Finnigan had a talent for setting things on fire and blowing things up. It had been one he’d discovered in the early days of his first year at Hogwarts. Sure, his accidental magic had come in the form of explosions, but didn’t everyone’s? But his wand had consistently emitted sparks or flames or a burst of force. It seemed Emma had noticed that. 

They made eye contact.  _ Thud.  _ He doubled over, as if ill, and murmured a spell. The tiny flame flickered. Seamus picked up the fireworks and threw it over the counter. “Fireworks!” he shouted. “Happy Birthday, Harry!”

As expected, the small pub quickly burst into chaos. Seamus bolted, too weak to apparate again. He threw the door open and ran out onto the Hogsmeade street. People followed him out, shouting. Emma and Dean appeared by his side.

“You’re an idiot,” Dean grinned down at him. “How much bail money am I gonna need?”

“D’you always keep fireworks on you?” Seamus asked, turning to Emma. “Just in case you need someone to prove a point.”

“A lady never tells her secrets,” said Emma, and adjusted her bag strap. “Hermione Granger made extension charms pretty popular.”

“But  _ fireworks,”  _ Seamus insisted. “Do all girls carry fireworks about?”

Dean gripped his wrist. “Run.”

Not for the first time in his life, Seamus turned on his heel and sprinted, thoroughly drunk and with sparks of excitement in his veins. He only paused when there was an earth-shattering roar. The fireworks burst through the roof of the Hog’s Head and soared towards the sky. A congregation of people stood beneath, marvelling. Flames danced around the edge of the roof, taking root.

Two men ran towards him, and the hills were getting steeper towards the abandoned Hogwarts castle.  _ Thud. Thud.  _ He placed his wand on the ground and raised his arms above his head. It was Harry and a very smelly Percy Weasley.

“You’re under arrest for public nuisance, and damage of property,” Harry said as he got closer. The fireworks burst high above the town in shimmers of purple sparks. Smoke was beginning to rise beneath it. “And probably arson, knowing you.”

“And apparition under the influence,” added Percy. “Breaking noise restrictions, too.” Harry nodded at Percy, who mumbled a spell and tied Seamus’ hands together. He winced briefly. 

“Really, Seamus? I didn’t want to bring anyone in on my birthday,” Harry said, gritting his teeth. Emma and Dean were no more than shapes in the crowd.

“Needed to make sure it was a birthday to remember,” Seamus said, reaching to scratch his neck. As he moved his arms, Percy stepped forward. He didn’t need to. “Ow. Forgot. Sorry.”

Percy pointed his wand towards Seamus’ mouth. He eyed it uneasily. “Blow on the end of my wand, please. Breath test for alcohol and other substances.”

“‘Blow on the end of my wand,’” Seamus repeated, raising his eyebrows at Harry, who poorly concealed a smirk. “Only if you’ll do the same to mine.”

“Seamus,” Harry said, in his best attempt to be stern. Percy didn’t look as amused. Seamus sighed and blew on the end of the wand. Percy looked pleased, though Seamus hadn’t a clue how he was to get the results from his wand.

“I can take him in, Harry,” Percy said. Another shower of sparks rained down, this time golden. An annoyed-looking woman with her hair in curlers stuck her head out the window. “You ought to stay here and enjoy your birthday.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” Harry said.

“I’m not going to Azkaban?” Seamus asked suddenly. 

“No,” said Harry, as Percy said, “Perhaps.” Seamus shut his eyes. Emma Vane and his half-title of ‘gentleman crim’ were certainly not worth Azkaban. Dean had money for bail, but not  _ that  _ sort of bail.

“We’re still rounding up Death Eaters,” Harry shrugged. “Stuff from the war. You’ll be fine. But Seamus?”

“Yup, Harry?”

“Don’t try to make my birthday memorable again.”

  
  



End file.
